Love
by tsukihimehime
Summary: My take on Himiko's childhood and what made her the crazy yangire she is today. P.S. She has an older sister in the story. Rated T just to be safe, for there are mentions of psychological and physical abuse as well as gore. BTW, not a native English speaker, so feel free to comment on parts of the story that can do better.


Himiko choked as another bottle of irony substance was shoved down her throat. Her eyes were puffy with tears and throat sore from cries. The six-year-old still can't fathom why her once loving parents now don masks of devils. This certainly wasn't the first time her parents did something like this, but they were never this violent.

Though the reasoning behind such brutality is unclear, a tiny part of her understands. They hate her because of the quirk that manifested just weeks ago. At the same time, they want to use her as well. From the moment she licked her sister's blood, tension in the Toga family became palpable. It wasn't noticeable at first, and Himiko dismissed their looks of disgust as initial shock. However, forced smiles became apathy, and shortly after, hostility.

* * *

The force-feeding started a month after the incident when her mother gently stroked her hair and asked that she finish the vial.

"Miko-chan, look at your hair that's all tangled up! You want to be loved by your papa right?Girls that don't look cute won't get any love." The women expressed warmth as she pulled harder at her daughter's hair. " Here. Drink this. You will become pretty and loved, okay?"Her hands once again grabbing at golden locks.

"Mama, it hurts. But it's okay. Himiko will be a good girl and listen to you." Tiny fingers clasped the item filled with an unknown substance.

The overbearing metallic taste immediately took over. It was the look of an unpleased woman that stopped her from throwing up. The disgusting taste stayed in her mouth, rich and thick like chocolate, but with an awfully unpleasant flavor. Ignoring her taste bud was easier than ignoring the smell. Rusted iron wafted through the air, and she felt her stomach flip.

Himiko held on though because she is a good girl.

"Is it good? Mama only wants the best for you, Himiko. " The voice was soft, actions tender, only betrayed by the loathsome wrinkles by her smile.

Himiko dared not look her mother in the eye as she barely muttered the words "Yes. It's wonderful. Thank you."

This earned her a kiss from mama. Not the soft kisses filled with adoration, but one that hurt because mama was furiously trying to bite into her skin.

Tears threatened to spill once again, but she controlled them, letting them swim in her eyes, but never pour. This was the only human contact she has had since that day, and all the craving hurt much more than any form of physical abuse. She could endure this, in the name of love.

Her body liquified, an unfamiliar sensation taking over. Golden locks turned a darker shade of brown and her chubby face morphed into the intricate doll-like face of her older sister.

* * *

Himeko's accident devastated the family. When she closes her eyes, Himiko could still see blood pooling from her sister. A torso punctured by gaping holes, and pale complexion painted over by bright red liquid. Himiko licked the wound, like animals on discovery channels do when they are hurt. She wanted to stop the painful look on her sister's face.

Heroes scrambled around them, but not one dared challenge the villain who harmed her sister. Passerby stayed to watch the little girl and her sister, but none ran to help. Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

Her memories stayed there, the people bustling, the voices shouting, and the coldness inviting.

* * *

Himiko has no idea how she got home, but when she finally opened her mouth, the voice that came out wasn't hers. Instead, an all too familiar voice like flower petals in summer escaped her lips. She remembers the disbelief in her parent's eyes, how they bombarded her with questions and the silence that followed after her recount of the incident.

It confused her greatly when her parents prepared her meals separately that night, but she didn't complain. She didn't dare utter a single word of disobedience even when she saw the all too familiar crimson liquid being put into her soup. The soothing voice of Himeko remained with her, and that was enough to put up with the unusual actions of papa and mama.

Figuring out that her parents did not want to see her wasn't hard. They didn't bother to hide their disdain when she appeared. They didn't want her, just "her" voice. Himeko's voice.

Looking at Himeko was too painful for them, and detachment escalated to violence. Bruised and cut up to the point of being unrecognizable, her parents would finally allow her out of the dimly lit attic. She talked and talked and talked, reading a never-ending pile of news articles, books, and magazines. This was the only time she was allowed to make noise, and the only time she could see her parents.

Soon, just hearing the voice of their daughter in ICU wasn't enough to satiate their greed. They wanted more. The longing led to her forcing down the vial of blood, her mother watching intently by the side.

That was the day Himiko Toga became Himeko Toga. Being Himeko is the only time she can feel true affection from her parents. She knows the love in their eyes isn't aimed at her, but she plays along, nevertheless. She becomes Himeko, taking on Himeko's personality, subtle expressions, and speech patterns.

Love is painful when she is Himiko, but love is gentle when she is Himeko.

Alas, greed knows no bounds, and nothing was enough. Her sister played piano, so she had to play just as well, or a beating in the name of love would await her. Her sister was always at the top of her class, so second place wasn't an option for Himiko. Her sister was the perfect darling in school, with mannerisms like a princess, therefore Himiko had to be lovable as well. By the time middle school started, Himiko had already made it a habit to wear long sleeves despite the weather.

Scars from the days she failed to replicate the impeccable idea of a daughter her parents held haunted her. The discoloration on her arm each held a story. Himiko remembers every one of them. There was one she received when she forgot to change the words Himiko to Himeko on her piano certificate. The scar above that was due to failing to get first place in the whole school. The deepest cut was the result of feeding a starving cat on the street.

School was supposed to be liberation, but she never escaped the shadow of Himeko. Smiling pleasantly at those that angered her isn't Himiko. Neither is becoming the embodiment of elegance.

Himiko knew this wasn't her, for she was the wild unpredictable bundle of energy that skipped down streets, the chaos to her sister's harmony. She loved the exquisite air her sister carried, the poise of a sophisticated classic lady, but that isn't Toga Himiko.

* * *

The lines only continued to get blurrier as she grew older. She wanted to be Himiko, but she needed to become someone else.

Love makes you bleed.

Pain that came with cuts and bruises weren't anything new. That doesn't mean it hurts less. She remembers, after a brutal physical beating, her mother called her beautiful. The reflection in one of the broken glass pieces showed a girl bathed in blood. She remembers the only time her father spent time with her as Himiko was when stabbing her with needles, watching as blood trailed from wounds. This is love. Bleeding is loving when you are Himiko.

Love makes you suffer.

Eternal inner turmoil that came with living as a person you love dearly tears her apart from the inside. Himiko knows her grasps on reality is slipping. What is pretend anymore? And who is she pretending to be? Still, she goes to school acting as the perfect girl, putting on the endearing smile rehearsed millions of times in front of the mirror. She wants to stop, but at this point, she can't even control herself. Her mind functions, yet the body moves on its own. Suffering is love, for, without suffering, Himeko and Himiko could not exist together. Sometimes, she wants to rip all her organs out.

Love gives you warmth.

Blood that oozes out from a fresh wound covers her icy arm. It was warm, welcoming, and lulled her to sleep. She knows this is how her parents give Himiko warmth. This is what a girl like Himiko deserves. On days when there is enough blood for her to become Himeko, her father hugs her, enveloping her in his warm muscular arms. Her mother lets her sit by the fireplace, telling her tales of heroes that fought off evil. The fireplace is warm, and her mother's smile, warmer. Eventually, she falls asleep, only to wake up to the cold that bites at her muscles. Love is warm, and being cold implicates she is unloved.

Love kills you.

Himiko still remembers the day love killed. The twisted mentality her parents embraced got to them first. They couldn't accept their beloved daughter, once the source of their hope and pride, reduced to the frail-looking women barely able to stand up. They attacked Himeko the day she finally woke up from coma, making sure Himeko would forever stay a vegetable.

Rage blinded Himiko when saw her parent's actions of attacking her sibling. She had been secretly visiting her sister but left the room moments ago to buy some beverage. She did not expect to hear the desperate coughs of Himeko when she turned the doorknob. Their father stood there, fingers crushing Himeko's throat.

The only thing she recalls is the knife lying next to a half-peeled apple and the mangled body of three.

Love kills, for Himiko loves her family dearly.


End file.
